Introduction
Ángel Morera, a former member of two guerrilla groups and the army, raps to acknowledge his crimes at an event held by the Colombian Truth Commission in Chocó. Another rapper and former guerrilla member, Martín Batalla, leads productive and cultural activities for collective reincorporation in Espacio Territorial de Capacitación y Reincorporación (‘Territorial Space of Capacitation and Reincorporation’) in Antioquia, where some former combatants of the FARC-EP guerrilla were placed after signing the peace agreement reached with the Colombian Government in 2016. At the Fallen Soldier's Monument in Bogotá, the Reincidentes Bta (‘Recidivists Bogotá’) group raps to denounce crimes committed by army members. In the Catatumbo region of North Santander, one of the territories most affected by the armed conflict, two young women, known as Motilonas Rap, release a music video filmed in a colonial aqueduct where people disappeared at the hands of paramilitary groups. These events are not random; they are connected. They portray Colombian rappers whose music and artistic activities relate to the armed conflict and the efforts to overcome it.
The aim of this article is to explore the interplay between rap and transitional justice by analysing the artists’ personal experiences, perspectives and lyrics. We contend that these rappers intend to interact with transitional justice in Colombia from at least three dimensions: (1) as means of healing, reincorporation and reconciliation; (2) as a tool for social work, community building and activism; and (3) as a vessel for truth telling, memory, and denouncing. Thus, these cases show that rap relates in a complex way to transitional justice, sometimes acting as a supportive tool for its goals or as a counter narrative to Colombian official discourses on transitional justice.
To reach this conclusion, we will briefly review how rap and criminal justice have been understood by scholars, and how this approach contrasts with research about music and transitional justice. Afterwards, we will present a brief context of Colombia's transition and music-related issues. Also, we will explain our methodological design and data collection exercise in which we conducted interviews with two former combatants and two musical groups from civil society, all of whom rap. We will analyse the interviews and some of the lyrics of these musicians in order to conclude that these examples of Colombian rap engage with transitional justice in a complex manner: sometimes aligning with the official discourse on transition and sometimes providing counter-narratives that may hinder them.
Rap and criminal justice
Some scholars have stated that rap music has a complex relation with the judicial system. The history of rap is one marked, probably more than any other musical genre, with legal sanctions, police disruption, censorship over obscenity and the subsequent denial of public performances, and the arrest of rappers for allegedly lewd and profane contents (Dunbar et al. Reference Dunbar, Kubrin and Scurich2016). Recent studies in the United States have identified and discussed how some prosecutors use rap as evidence within legal proceedings against musicians in order to prove intent, motive or knowledge of certain crimes, or their belonging to criminal organisations (Ebisike Reference Ebisike2018). This may be due to the social stereotypes surrounding rap that label the genre as a dangerous one and rappers as gangsters within the broader context of racial biases in the criminal justice system (Nielson and Dennis Reference Nielson and Dennis2019; Araibi Reference Araibi2020). This aids prosecutors in the construction of criminal narratives during proceedings (Dennis Reference Dennis2007). Thus, it is possible to conclude that one of the main concerns in research pertains to how rap relates to the inner workings and rationales of the criminal justice system.
This is because individuals use forms of popular culture as a source of knowledge when lacking personal experience, an issue that often occurs regarding discourses on crime and punishment (Jewkes Reference Jewkes2011; Surette Reference Surette2010). In this sense, cultural representations are paramount in criminological and crime policy debates as their ability to frame reality becomes a tool for the exercise of dominance or resistance in the (re) creation of power-knowledge relations through a net-like structure (Mason Reference Mason and Mason2006). Therefore, popular cultural representations, including rap, serve as legitimising or counter-narratives to penal power within the normalcy of the criminal justice system and its nature or goals.
These functions can also take place in relation to systems of transitional justice, which intend to account for serious human rights violations during times of war or authoritarian regimes when transitioning towards peace or democracy (Sharp Reference Sharp2015). Transitional justice is the set of judicial and non-judicial mechanisms and proceedings established to enable societies to deal with a violent past. These mechanisms and proceedings intend to foster reconciliation while guaranteeing accountability, reparations and truth. In the transitional justice mechanism, the focus is not only on the imposition of punishment but rather on truth telling, acknowledgement, reparation and reconciliation (UNGA 2004). In this logic, it has become commonplace to note that transitional justice mechanisms shift the traditional attention and rationales of the criminal justice system from a retributive to a restorative nature (Escobar Reference Escobar and Forero Ramírez2017). Therefore, it is important to account for how musicians, and particularly rappers, interact with this shift.
Music, rap and transitional justice
In this shift of paradigm, different discourses interact in the deployment of transitional justice mechanisms. One of these is the relationship between artistic expressions and transitional justice. Studies have argued that this is a complex relationship because art can be either a useful tool for the achievement of the goals of transitional justice or an obstacle that hinders them. On one hand, artistic expressions can contribute, among other things, to the preservation of memory, the mourning of victims and the development of empathy among civil society, victims and perpetrators. Thus, art can shine a light on marginalised people, demand accountability or enhance the possibilities of peace and reconciliation (Rush Reference Rush, Rush and Simic2014; Ramírez-Barat Reference Ramírez-Barat2020; Cohen Reference Cohen2020).
On the other hand, artistic expressions can be harmful by reinforcing power inequalities, perpetuating stereotypes or trivialising the conflict (Cohen Reference Cohen2020). Regardless of whether they contribute to the aims of transitional justice, the analysis of artistic expressions can allow for a better understanding of the narratives that interact in the deployment of these mechanisms and the discourses that ground them (Clarkson Reference Clarkson2014; Rush Reference Rush, Rush and Simic2014; Garnsey Reference Garnsey2016, Reference Garnsey2021).
The relationship between music and transitional justice has also been the subject of various studies. According to research, music may serve the purposes of healing, reconciliation and reincorporation (Pilzer Reference Pilzer, Pettan and Todd Titon2015; Sandoval Reference Sandoval2016). This is because music can be therapeutic in the treatment of victims, survivors and ex-combatants (Bergh and Sloboda Reference Bergh and Sloboda2010). Likewise, it may be useful in conflict resolution, acknowledgement of crimes (O'Connell Reference O'Connell, Morgan O'Connell and El-Shawan Castelo-Branco2010; Haskell Reference Haskell, Pettan and Todd2015) and the education of citizens during times of peace (O'Connell Reference O'Connell2011). For instance, some studies of the Balkans’ post-conflict scenario have highlighted how rap works as an effective mediator for conflict resolution (Balandina Reference Balandina, Miszczynski and Helbig2017). In contrast, music can also be problematic for healing, reconciliation and reparation. This is because music can also celebrate war, hate and humiliation and romanticise conflict (Kent Reference Kent and Urbain2007; O'Connell Reference O'Connell, Morgan O'Connell and El-Shawan Castelo-Branco2010); work as an ideological instrument to motivate combatants and intimidate others (Bergh and Sloboda Reference Bergh and Sloboda2010; Nuxoll Reference Nuxoll2015); or be used as a weapon of torture (Sandoval Reference Sandoval2016).
Scholars have also identified how music relates to activism, social work and community building by enhancing individual and collective identities within transitional justice (Pilzer Reference Pilzer, Pettan and Todd Titon2015; Rodríguez and Cabedo Reference Rodríguez and Cabedo2017). For instance, in some contexts, activists use music to demand victims’ rights, such as reparations (Sandoval Reference Sandoval2016). Lahai (Reference Lahai, Kibona and Mwanzia2014) argues that hip-hop in Sierra Leone enables youths to create their own identities that challenge the country's violent past, peacefully express political unconformity and promote social change. Songs can also contain narratives that can contribute to truth telling, memory and denunciation (Pitic Reference Pitic2020). Dover (Reference Dover2014) suggests that the use of hip-hop by young people has been a vehicle for challenging colonialist narratives in post-apartheid South Africa, while Pilzer (Reference Pilzer, Pettan and Todd Titon2015) has identified that music in transitional justice scenarios can generate narratives that are often oriented towards redemption.
However, it can also create a tension insofar as official transitional justice mechanisms, such as truth commissions, often turn to music to generate an institutionalised history of the conflict that may foster reconciliation, while other musicians use it to vocalise disregarded issues in the top-down approaches generally entailed by transitional justice (Pitic Reference Pitic2020). For instance, hip-hop from Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, uses an unpolitical grammar appealing to youngsters that directly contests institutional post-conflict narratives in terms of ethnicity and national identity (Kadich Reference Kadich2019). Moreover, the relationship between rap and transitional justice can be so complex that even when ideologically supporting peace, rappers have faced resistance to their musical activism, such as in Nepal, where the genre is considered foreign and vulgar (Lundqvist Reference Lundqvist2021). Thus, rap may help to foster an official narrative of transition and, at the same time, act as an unofficial counterpart to its status quo (Bahun Reference Bahun, Corradetti and Eisikovits2016).
The context of transitional justice in Colombia
During the last 60 years, Colombia has faced a long and complex armed conflict between various actors, including guerrilla groups, paramilitary forces and the national army, which has victimised millions in both rural and urban communities (National Centre of Historical Memory 2013). To address the causes and consequences of this conflict, the Colombian Government signed the peace agreement in 2016 with the FARC-EP, the oldest and largest guerrilla group in the country.Footnote 1 The peace agreement consisted of six main points: (1) the implementation of a rural reform to distribute and ensure access to land; (2) the establishment of measures to allow political participation for the guerrilla members in civil society; (3) the process of military demobilisation of the guerrilla and their reincorporation; (4) a solution to the inherent problems of the production and distribution of illegal drugs that fuelled the conflict; (5) the guarantee of victims’ rights by the creation of the System of Truth, Justice, Reparations and Non-Recurrence Measures;Footnote 2 and (6) the measures to guarantee and verify the implementation of the agreement (Colombia and FARC-EP Reference Dennis2016).
However, war in Colombia is not over. The implementation of the Agreement has been contentious as it was subject to a plebiscite in which the proposal was narrowly defeated. Moreover, the government that followed, stemming from the political party that campaigned against the Agreement, has been questioned by the Colombian Constitutional Court (2022) on the grounds that the institutional actions deployed do not meet the normative standards set therein, particularly regarding the safety of former combatants. Accordingly, the Colombian Constitutional Court (2022) has declared an unconstitutional state of affairs regarding this. Indeed, during the implementation of the peace agreement, there has been intense violence against human rights defenders, social leaders and ex-combatants that affect peace efforts and are structural challenges to the success of the process (Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies 2021). Additionally, other armed groups, such as the guerrilla Ejército de Liberación Nacional-ELN (‘National Liberation Army’), paramilitary structures and FARC-EP dissidents are still present in the country (UNHCHR 2021).
Colombian music has not been deaf to this context. On the contrary, the music relates to both war and peace in contrasting ways. For instance, music has served to legitimise narratives of warfare, such as the anthems of armed groups in which they often invoke a past glory that demands restoration through armed conflict and the enemy's defeat. The FARC-EP used Colombian popular music during the war to boost troop morale and to foster a sense of collective identity and ideological cohesion, as well as a means of circulating propaganda and outreach to other groups and organisations (Quishpe Reference Quishpe2020). In particular, Samacá (Reference Samacá2017) analysed how the FARC-EP used music to disseminate Marxist and anti-imperialist discourses and ideologies among their members and civil society. In contrast, during peace efforts, music by the FARC-EP sought to strengthen ties with local communities. More recently, the extinct guerrilla group, now an acting political party, used music to promote political candidates as part of their reincorporation into civil society while still evoking nostalgia for, and remembrance of, their struggles (Quishpe Reference Quishpe2020).
Return to civil society through music was also a state-based approach during the conflict as the government deployed programmes such as ‘Canta conmigo’ (‘Sing with Me’) to promote the socioeconomic reintegration of defectors by involving them in musical projects and enterprises (García Reference García2012). Thomas (Reference Thomas2019) recalls the experiment undertaken by a non-governmental organisation in which hip-hop became the axis of a performative peace-building act that engaged young people with the peace agreement.
According to Pinto (Reference Pinto2014), music composed by victims or civil society has also allowed for the empowerment of communities that have faced violence by providing them with honest narratives about past atrocities and defending a sense of identity. To some extent, this is common to perpetrators, allowing room for empathy, guilt and redemption. Pinto reaches this conclusion via an analysis of the rap group Renacientes (‘Reborn’), which comprises victims from Chocó, a region heavily impacted by the conflict owing to its strategic location. This evidences the functional role of music regarding the overall objectives of peace building. The group's music is intended to establish and empower the community of Cacaricá as part of civil society by creating narratives that enhance the collective identity and integration of young audiences. However, owing to the harsh lyrics of their songs, they can also reinforce differences between victims, perpetrators, civil society and the government. This shows that rap does not necessarily fit the official narratives proposed by institutions that aim for a swift transition towards peace.
All in all, the diverse types of musical practices related to war and peace in Colombia highlight the complexity and various tonalities that might create understandings that oppose the widespread discourses over how the conflict began, developed and is ending (Molina Reference Molina2019).
Methods and data
In order to analyse the relationship between Colombian rap and transitional justice, we selected a qualitative approach because of its processual nature (Bryman Reference Bryman2012). Data for this article were gathered through semi-structured interviews of rappers who were selected in a purposive manner (Bernard Reference Bernard2006; Francis Reference Francis, Jupp, Davies and Francis2000) since they are former combatants or members of civil society that discuss war and peace in their art. This sample is also a product of security issues concerning the current political environment in Colombia, as well as bio-security issues concerning the COVID-19 pandemic, which made some rappers unavailable. Thus, this is also a product of convenience sampling (Greener Reference Greener2011).
One of the interviews took place before our research began for this article, since it was part of the data gathered by one of the authors for a different work related to music and conflict (Quishpe Reference Quishpe2020). In any case, these data proved useful for a secondary analysis (Bryman Reference Bryman2012).
We recorded all interviews with the full consent of participants and, later, transcribed them. We enriched the themes found in the interviews by analysing songs by the interviewees.Footnote 3 All data gathered were subject to critical narrative analysis as it allows individuals and researchers to ‘bring together the micro (personal) and macro (social and institutional) situations in place’ (Souto-Manning Reference Souto-Manning2014, p. 163).
Ángel Morera: redemption songs
Since I was little/I had to sing/I always dreamt it/I worked my talent/the countryside, I knew/Time and revolution/gave me the choice/If war or gigs/and now I'm here/Singing to my people. (Morera Reference Morera2021a)
These lyrics by Ángel Morera are from the song ‘Sigo Resistiendo’ (‘I Keep Resisting’), released at an event held by Colombia's Truth Commission on 6 September 2021. Before singing, he conveyed his gratitude to the Commission for all the work it is doing to support him and to benefit Colombia's youth. Ángel Morera was a singer even before the ELN guerrilla recruited him into its ranks as a child without him even knowing it was an armed group. After a couple of years, he switched to the FARC-EP for various reasons, including falling in love with a member of said organisation. He only lasted a few months as his camp was subject to heavy bombardment by the army. Afterwards, he entered the custody of child welfare services, only to run away. Because of lack of opportunities, he enlisted in the army. With the peace agreement, Morera committed himself to the consolidation of the political party created by the former FARC-EP combatants, now denominated Comunes (‘Commons’). Throughout all these years, he composed and sang music. However, it is with his reincorporation to civil society that he devotes himself fully to both music, such as rap and reggaeton, and peace-building activities. Morera now produces his songs in a small studio he built in his house.
For Morera, rap is a powerful tool for redemption and a means to heal the wounds inflicted both on him and by him during his engagement with the conflict. His lyrics, like those below from ‘Sigo Resistiendo’, acknowledge that he has committed crimes but recall that the transition to peace has allowed him the chance to sing, express himself and heal.
Although I have blood on my hands/With rhymes, I'm healing/And it's eternal the feeling/of being a peasant and a warrior/I do the right thing/I will no longer stain my hands with blood/I ask God to keep me. (Morera Reference Morera2021a)
Morera's interview reveals that during the armed conflict, music became his escape from the atrocities he had to witness or commit as an underage combatant recruited by the guerrillas, and again as an adult soldier. As he states, regarding the context of violence he lived, ‘my intention was always to get out of this through music’ (Morera, interview by Rafael Quishpe and Juan Francisco Soto, Reference Morera2021). However, his relationship with music during the armed conflict was somewhat paradoxical and complex. For instance, rap saved him on two different occasions from capture by agents of the state. On the first occasion, he was distributing ELN pamphlets when he was arrested by police officers. As people knew him around his hometown as a singer, this identity allowed him to explain that he was circulating the pamphlets under threat of death, so he avoided detention. On the second occasion, Morera was escaping the custody of child welfare services by fleeing to Bogotá. Police officers stopped him at the bus terminal and asked him for his papers. Morera explained to them that he was a singer by trade and showed them some of the videos he had uploaded to YouTube. Despite a brief scolding over his lack of papers or adult supervision, this excuse enabled him to evade police custody.
While his engagement with rap allowed him to evade police custody on two occasions, music was not a real possibility for Morera during the conflict. Although he created a CD of songs comprising many genres as a means of channelling the frustrations of his teenage years in the ELN, this was mostly just a hobby that provided him relief from everyday life. During his brief time in the ranks of the FARC-EP, Ángel Morera continued to compose and create music, but he did not perform for his comrades. According to him, this was partly because cultural activities at rural camps favoured Colombian popular music. More importantly, he now reflects that he was afraid of fully becoming an artist during those years. After he enlisted in the army, he met a civilian working in his battalion who had a computer and recording equipment. Morera obtained permission from his sergeant to record his songs in five hours. Despite the bitter treatment he and his other troop members received during their year of service, this was a crucial moment for him.
I recorded the song … with such anger. I had a different way of singing before being in the FARC, before being in the army. And when I recorded this song, I mean, I got like a different flow – I met my other flow – I got to know this fucking potency because I sang it with such rage, with such anger. And I said to myself, ‘here's my road’. I mean, this is my style. (Morera, interview by Rafael Quishpe and Juan Francisco Soto, Reference Morera2021)
In 2019, he solved some personal matters that had made him stray from his music, contacted Comunes and eventually released ‘Alma Campesina’ (‘Peasant Soul’), a song written to support a beer produced by former FARC-EP combatants (Morera Reference Morera2021b). It is the first song by Morera in which he uses his first name, Ángel, as he wanted to highlight it was a new beginning. This new beginning is a part of his commitment to truth, reconciliation and reincorporation. Regarding this, which also extends to political activism, he told us:
because even if you do not make protest songs, at least you have to be aware of the reality of our country. That you at least can … that we all gather and at least can speak about something … an important subject because there are many complex issues in this country. And remain silent? No way. I don't think so. And more so, in my case, to say that I must remain silent after having lived all that? No. I won't remain silent. (Morera interview by Rafael Quishpe and Juan Francisco Soto, Reference Morera2021)
This highlights another dimension of his use of rap beyond redemptive narratives. His songs are also political, portraying the angst and fear of ex-combatants regarding the reincorporation process and government non-compliance with the agreements over their protection. In ‘Por la Vida y por la Paz’ (‘For Life and Peace’), Ángel Morera (Reference Morera2020a) raps about how peace requires social, political and economic inclusion. Because of this, his main fear is that former combatants will risk assassination, the subject of extermination as they engage in politics. This is a fear conveyed in his song ‘La Maldita Guerra’ (‘The Fucking War’), wherein the music video portrays news footage of recent assassinations in Colombia of civilians and former combatants, and in which he raps:
They want to finish us/they will not forgive/and now there is no real peace/they want to achieve their purpose/that we resort to arms/so they can govern/through war/the fucking war. (Morera Reference Morera2020b)
This is the same spirit of ‘El Baile Rojo’ (‘The Red Dance’), which evokes the extermination of the political arm of the FARC-EP guerrilla by government and paramilitary agents during the peace negotiations between this group and the state in the late 1980s. The music video portrays audio footage of news reports regarding recent massacres, murders and death threats of civilians, social leaders and former combatants. The post, uploaded by Morera on YouTube, shows a photo of him with the emblem of the rose that represents the Comunes political party and the images of renowned guerrilla leaders – considered by most Colombians to be terrible war criminals – with the slogan ‘Juramos Vencer’ (‘We are Sworn to Victory’). In this song, Morera states:
In Nariño, they killed youths/and nothing passes/Here it's normal/to live under threat/I want peace/but the process fails/A tomb waits for me/or return to Cauca/to fight in this war/the fucking war/doesn't let youths like me/fulfil their dreams. (Morera Reference Morera2020c)
Even in the face of these threats to peace, Morera constantly renews his commitment to fulfilling the agreement, evidenced by what he raps in ‘Por la Vida y por la Paz’:
We walk for a different future/we are complying/but they are killing us/we are giving soul, body and spirit/to comply with the agreement/and still they judge us/we go in peace/and will continue to walk in peace. (Morera Reference Morera2020a)
Martín Batalla: unearthing memories of struggle
Using the sound of time's echo/I become an instrument of reconstruction/stirring history without resignation/studying the past achieves non-repetition/that no weapons intervene in politics/there's the solution/and that my people express themselves freely/without fear of a bullet in their heads. (Batalla Reference Batalla2017a)
These lyrics are from the song ‘Desenterrando Memorias Parte II’ (‘Unearthing Memories Part II’), the video of which takes place in Bogotá, a year after the peace agreement was signed. This video, set in an urban environment and with the rapper dressed as a civilian, starkly contrasts with the one from the first part of its eponymous title. Part I of ‘Desenterrando Memorias Parte I’ (‘Unearthing Memories Part I’; Batalla Reference Batalla2017b) is set in the rural encampments of the guerrilla and Batalla is dressed in camouflage and raps while bearing arms. This is not the only contrast. Although both videos went online in 2017 and they share the central topic of historical memory, their audiences, topics and objectives are not the same. We will return to these contrasts later but let us first discuss Batalla.
Martín Batalla is the artistic name and guerrilla alias of Mauricio Zuluaga. It is a tribute to his friend and activist Martín Hernández, murdered because of his political engagement in the city of Medellin by paramilitary forces in 2008. Martín Batalla means ‘Martín battles’, as in he still lives and feels (Muñoz Reference Muñoz2018). His name highlights that he understands rap and life itself as struggles.
Batalla is a former member of the FARC-EP. He was a law student, rapper and cultural activist that engaged with hip-hop as a means to perform communitarian work in Medellin, a city heavily hurt by the violence. He was imprisoned on charges of terrorism owing to his engagement in social protests that resulted in violent episodes with police and, after spending two years in jail, was acquitted (Muñoz Reference Muñoz2018). This criminalisation process was one of the reasons that motivated him to join the guerrillas since many of his cellmates were FARC-EP prisoners. As he regained his freedom, he began to operate as a clandestine urban commando. Later, he became a full-fledged combatant for the rural commandos. With the peace agreement, he relinquished his weapons, relocated himself to the Espacio Terriorial de Capacitación y Reincorporación and became a leader of their cultural and economic activities to foster the reincorporation process.
Batalla's commitment to rap and hip-hop has always been a central part of his understanding of community building. In his interview, he remarks on how his engagement with social work began with the organisation of hip-hop collectives in neighbourhoods. He became the founder of a project known as Cultura y Libertad (‘Culture and Freedom’), which was a hip-hop school for children in Medellin. His group, Monteadentro (‘Deepinthecountry’), was of a rebellious and political nature from the very beginning. One of his crew members was also a classmate of his at the law faculty and, together, they engaged in political activism at the university. The combative nature of his music is evident in the tribute, even before adopting the name Martín Batalla, which Monteadentro wrote for Martín Hernández.
Corrupt government that stimulate killings/let it be clear to you that the people do not grow weary/that its struggle continues alongside Martín Batalla/in all the fields, communes and hoods/the people stand up alongside Martín Batalla. (Monteadentro 2008)
The political and ideological struggle against the government will be Batalla's companion during his time as a FARC-EP combatant. As he acknowledges in his interview, music served the function of ideological cohesion, troop morale and unity. During his time in the rural commandos, he participated in cultural events, although music was more associated with Colombian popular genres. Likewise, the dynamics of warfare did not allow for continued cultural activities on some occasions. For instance, there was an allotted day for hearing radio and music. Nonetheless, Batalla explained in his interview how music played a pivotal role in the formation of FARC-EP combatants, particularly in the Caribbean fronts to which he relocated afterwards.Footnote 4 In other words, the guerrilla's history was one created through all types of clandestine songs. In this sense, music functioned as an epic that romanticised the origins of the guerrilla and its leaders. According to this vision, functional for propaganda and ideological purposes, Colombia's history is one of struggle, and the history of struggle is the history of the FARC-EP, of which Marquetalia becomes its geographical and mythological birthplace. In Batalla's words from ‘Desenterrando Memorias Parte I’:
Death of Jacobo Prías/resistance/Marquetalia is ready/at the sight of power's inclemency/Jacobo and Manuel/worthy resistance/and at the sight of power's inclemency/I repeat to you, FARC-EP/worthy resistance…Unearthing memories/Rebuilding our history/more than fifty years of resistance and popular fight/for Colombia's peace. (Batalla Reference Batalla2017b)
This song is an ode to the heroics of guerrilla warfare and its intention is, precisely, to legitimise it through the depiction of events that resulted in its creation. This emphasis on armed struggle and those who lead it contrasts with the emphasis given in ‘Desenterrando Memorias Parte II’. Even though the chorus in both songs insists on the themes of resistance and memory, the heroes are now the militants of the political left murdered during ‘Baile Rojo’. This highlights a shift from armed to political struggle in which Batalla states that words and social mobilisations are his new weapons. He raps, ‘Still my people struggle/as a living force/with its people's love/building unity/the only way out/conscious mobilisation’ (Batalla Reference Batalla2017a).
During peace, music and culture become the tool for the ideological conflict's continuity without weapons. While located at the Punto Transitorio de Normalización (‘Transitory Point of Normalisation’) after the agreement, Martín Batalla recalls how he used radio to contact army members and advocate for peace. However, this continuance of struggle is also present in the claims of non-compliance on the government's behalf. In his interview, Batalla states:
Well, to us in the reincorporation zones and the transitory points, we are engaging in a huge effort amidst the government's non-compliance so that the cultural processes that survived the war and were kept for so long survive this non-fulfilment. (Batalla, interview by Rafael Quishpe, Reference Batalla2017)
Thus, even the quest for peace is a struggle in which former combatants resist the Colombian Government. In 2020, Martín Batalla posted the song ‘De Ollita a Ollita’ (‘Little Pot by Little Pot’) on YouTube. In the description, he recalls that, in 2017, the FARC-EP's Secretariat assigned him the mission to visit all reincorporation zones to conduct a census on cultural endeavours by ex-combatants. During this mission, he heard about a group located in the north of Colombia where former combatants had requested relocation owing to the geography of the land not allowing them to engage in productive projects. He mentions in the video's description:
I also heard that, at the face of this request, the government responded by saying that if they are relocated, they will lose benefits, such as food and others. The answer was dignity. They had never relied on the government and this time they would advance with or without its support in the process of the collective reincorporation process on a territory that would provide them with opportunities. (Batalla Reference Batalla2020)
This song's title recalls the eponymous song of a different genre and nature made by Julián Conrado, known as the FARC's songwriter, and which describes the guerrilla's creation. In this sense, Batalla's version portrays the continuity of collective resistance and struggle in times of peace.
Reincidentes Bta: rappers denouncing gangsters
Here they take you from your home while you sleep at night/they shoot you and offer you as a combat casualty/That's how they got promotions, vacations, commendations, medals/They aren't heroes, they aren't martyrs; they are assassins and scoundrels. (Reincidentes Bta, featuring Diana Avella 2020)
These lyrics are from the song ‘Militares’ (‘Militaries’), which was released after news broke out that seven soldiers raped a seven-year-old child from the Embera ethnic group. In this song, as in most of their work, Reincidentes Bta denounces crimes committed by state agents. This highlights an interesting issue. While rappers sometimes are labelled as gangsters, this band sees political dialogue as a rap battle whereby rappers call out those they perceive as the real gangsters. Such denunciation is also present in other songs like ‘Narcos’ (Reincidentes Bta 2020) and ‘Terrorista’ (‘Terrorist’; Reincidentes Bta 2016), in which they indict the entire political, military and financial establishments on charges of its agents being the real criminals.
The group's lead vocals are Daniel Pulido and Manuel Garzón. They are childhood friends that began their engagement with rap as part of the urban dynamics of their neighbourhood. Garzón studied law, worked in human rights advocacy and is now part of the legal staff of a legislator from the Comunes political party. Pulido studied art and entered the rap scene because a friend told him that if he could paint, he could rap. Their name is a reference to the continuous policing they were subject to in their neighbourhoods. Although their main influences are North American, they became aware of the national context and began to rap about it. As Daniel Pulido recalls in his interview:
Rap is that organic thing in which you have to talk about what it is, what you're doing, what's happening. We began to see, research and find what's happening socially, and you get shocked. You have to talk about this eight thousand times. Rap's fifth element (knowledge) is awakening in citizenship. (Pulido, D., Reincidentes Bta interview by Rafael Quishpe and Juan Francisco Soto, Reference Pulido2021)
This band envisions rap as a tool for conveying knowledge about what is happening, and their knowledge of the conflict, sprouts from the conjunction of two rigorous types of education. Firstly, the formal education received by their vocal leads at a public university, where they heard about rural issues. Secondly, what they learnt on the streets of the capital in which they were harassed in a manner that, to them, felt more like social cleansing than policing. Their song ‘Niños del Conflicto’ (‘Children of Conflict’) reflects how children are the first victims not only of violence but also of scarcity and hunger: ‘Welcome to wonderland/where the ribs tickle/Colombia and its gangs/its Mafia and its guerrilla’ (Reincidentes Bta 2012).
The success of the song saw them invited to perform at Hip-Hop al Parque (‘Hip-Hop at the Park’), the scene's main cultural event in Bogotá, and their engagement with political activism through rap allowed them to serve as non-official promotors of the negotiations between the government and the FARC-EP. One of the ways they did this was through the song ‘Hay que Volver a la Tierra’ (‘Got to Return to the Land’). This song is a shout out to all those displaced to return to plots and lands seized from them during the conflict. It stresses many of the social causes that fuelled the conflict as it describes that peace is only attainable through social justice in a country where claims of plunder over peasant's land are plentiful.
We fight in this world, everyday struggle/in this life, trying to stay out of trouble/looking for peace, ceasing the fire/climbing the mountain, straight up to Sion/in spring, waiting for summer/we will see light shine in the sundown/going back to the land with no sorrow/taking back what was borrowed/ … Of course, we want peace/who doesn't want peace?/But don't get confused, dude/our peace is not the peace of the rich/there'll only actually be peace when there are no rich nor poor/trouble-seeking nobodies/beneficiaries of para-militarism/don't come here to school us on civism, moralism and legalism/enemies of the people, exploiters of the Sierra/media moguls, businessmen, politicians, militaries, war criminals/the conflict is solved redistributing land and you know it. (Reincidentes Bta 2013)
After the peace agreement, Reincidentes Bta travelled to Marquetalia to perform before the guerrilla troops in a process of demobilisation at the FARC-EP's fifty-third anniversary. As recalled in Pulido's interview, this tour was a shocker since it showed the humane side of FARC-EP members, long regarded as enemies in the media. Pulido recalls a man asking if he believed it was possible to relinquish weapons and cease warfare. This man explained to him that he enlisted in the guerrilla group after paramilitaries and army soldiers entered his house and killed his son in front of him and his wife. Later, he stated that he was committed to peace but that if it did not result, he would return to arms. This had a profound effect on Pulido, who recalled this episode in response to why Reincidentes Bta denounces state crimes.
However, ‘denouncing’ in their terms is not the only way this band commits itself to peace building. After this episode, they continued visiting the reincorporation zones and began to produce the music of former combatants. Their song ‘Unamos Nuestras Voces’ (‘Let's Join Voices’) was created with four FARC-EP members undergoing civil reincorporation. In the video's description on YouTube, Reincidentes Bta feat. FARC-EP (2017) argues that the political solution to the conflict is a victory that Colombian must not lose. The song mixes the urban beats of the group's rap tradition with instruments and sounds from the countryside that characterises the guerrillas’ musical tradition of romanticising their struggle through a sort of epic folk singing. The lyrics are conducive with this theme, as well. At the video's end, the group presents the following written statement:
REINCIDENTES BTA reaffirms their unwavering commitment to peace in Colombia. From art and popular culture, we contribute to the realisation of a new country that achieves national reconciliation and the reconstruction of the social fabric. Our creative action is about realising the dreams, yearnings and demands of the vast national majorities. We weave this melody of joy and hope alongside FARC-EP members to demand the fulfilment of the peace agreement and its adequate implementation. We all build the new Colombia. Our revenge is joy. (Reincidentes Bta feat. FARC-EP 2017)
Motilonas Rap: wording their territory's beats
I respect who rises and defends his identity/I come from the Motilon Bari, spiritually indigenous/The message is for you when I drop this lyric/I never was the typical woman painted by society/I was born a rapper amidst jungles, raised in community/From Tibu, the Catatumbo, to wherever we must go/From rebellious mountains, with music transform. (Motilonas Rap 2020a)
The lyrics above are from the song ‘El Canto de la Flecha’ (‘The Arrow's Song’) by Motilonas Rap, a women's group from the Catatumbo region of Colombia comprising Sol Ortega and Denis Cáceres, with the participation of Carlos Mancera, known as Zerox, as their manager and producer. Their name originates from the Motilon Bari ethnicity, native to this part of the country. Before rapping, Cáceres and Ortega worked on social and community projects in their neighbourhoods, particularly with children. These activities were always of an artistic nature, such as painting, poetry and dancing. As they committed themselves to their community, rap became the vessel for empowerment and, at the same time, informing the rest of the country what was going on in Catatumbo. As Denis Cáceres stated:
We always wanted to show Catatumbo through rap because we felt too isolated, and a bunch of tough situations were taking place. Too much mourning, too many deaths, forced disappearances and displacements. We felt we were not being heard. That's why we began to rap, because music allows us to communicate, to send the message beyond our territory, and that's our commitment. Music is a tool to assume this commitment. (Cáceres, D., Macero, C., and Ortega, S., Motilonas Rap interview. Interview by Rafael Quishpe and Juan Francisco Soto, Reference Cáceres, Macero and Ortega2021)
Motilonas Rap has three distinguishing traits that are not usually present within their genre, let alone at the same time. Firstly, they are women in a male-dominated scene. Secondly, they come from a rural region, whereas rap is, by definition, an urban genre. Thirdly, their indigenous inheritance is pivotal to their work as the group's name indicates. The confluence of all these three aspects defines their identity as one driven by the need to dignify and discuss what is taking place in one of the regions most affected by the conflict. Motilonas perceive that these traits do not separate their music from the genre but sprout from it.
Sol Ortega: Hip-hop means to return to your roots. When we began without even knowing what hip-hop and rap were, we always tried to highlight our original communities because many people in the territory are ashamed to say that these communities have been here first, that they have protected the territory. Thanks to them, people have not been able to come here and exploit the territory.
Denis Cáceres: In other spaces, forums where we have shared Motilonas’ process, we have always said this: Hip-hop culture was born in an urban context but with dynamics that are similar to ours; dynamics of poverty, violence, displacement, abandonment. So, we are not apart from this reality, and from here, we have to begin to rebuild ourselves. If music, and particularly rap, allows us this, well, let's do it. (Cáceres, D., Macero, C., and Ortega, S., Motilonas Rap interview. Interview by Rafael Quishpe and Juan Francisco Soto, Reference Cáceres, Macero and Ortega2021)
This commitment implies the duty to tell the truth about all that happened to the land and its people, the victimisations they have endured, and how they have survived. In ‘Nidos de Antaño’ (‘Nests of Old’), Motilonas Rap, featuring Andrés and Hotarsie (2020), engage in the dynamics of victimisation through a heart-breaking narrative of exile. In fact, one of the singers featured in this song is the son of a couple who had to leave the country owing to the violence.
Although rains of tears run down my country/although they want to extinguish the light in me/although they have called us daughters of war/Fire comes out of my mouth, truth has been heard/Exile has its stories, its grooves, its rhythms/its steps, its doubts, its struggles, its histories/from those forgotten come the fruits/how to leave a country for the love of it? (Motilonas Rap, featuring Andrés and Hotarsie 2020)
Their narratives of memory and truth are not only present in their lyrics but also in the music itself. During the interview, Zerox told us how their music is produced by taking special consideration of the message they want to convey. For instance, Motilonas Rap (2021) pays tribute in ‘Líderes’ (‘Leaders’) to the social and community leaders murdered in Colombia in recent years. In this work, the drum beats deliberately come from a very sad rock song, while the piano sample comes from a war movie. The objective was to convey, through a solo loop, the nostalgic feeling of losing activists but, at the same time, gratitude towards their work. This recognition of integration is not only present in the dynamics of composition. It is also part of their understanding of suffering amidst the conflict. In ‘Sí a la Paz’ (‘Yes to Peace’), Motilonas Rap (2020b) asks their audience what they felt when they heard about several killings. They begin this line of questions in relation to public figures usually well regarded among Colombians, such as Jorge Eliecer Gaitán, Luis Carlos Galán and Jaime Garzón. However, they immediately create an abrupt tension in the audience as they later ask what the feeling was when they heard of Mono Jojoy's death, one of the FARC-EP's most dreaded leaders. Later, they ask the audience the same question regarding social leaders and paramilitary soldiers. This constitutes a shocking exercise in which the verse ends in the following manner: ‘In Colombia, brothers kill each other against ideals/and at the end, we all suffer in the cities and the countryside’ (Motilonas Rap 2020b).
This understanding comes from their desire for peace in their territory. That is what they advocate for in their songs. In ‘Sí a la Paz’ (Motilonas Rap 2020b), they recall that peace requires forgiveness without impunity. These narratives of redemption through accountability, as well as those that provide victims with a voice, have become appealing to Colombia's Truth Commission, which lists ‘Nidos de Añtaño’ on their webpage under the title ‘Songs that accompany the search for truth’ (Truth Commission 2020). However, Motilonas told us in their interview that they are usually reluctant to work with the state as they feel that its agencies do not properly respect their process. They do not want to be the entertainment quota of transitional justice events. Of course, they want to rap but also to express all their ideas freely and actively participate in discussions. More so, while Motilonas support the peace process and see it as an opportunity for their beloved territory, they have their reservations about the manner it is being implemented.
Denis Cáceres: Fifteen days ago, there was an armed engagement in Tibu's centre. The people are amidst crossed fire. That's something I hadn't heard in a while. They have placed many bombs; I can't say who because, in the territory, it's difficult to know who's who. But this creates a lot of fear, and you don't want to think of it anymore and leave everything behind. We know there are interests over the Catatumbo; we know that they militarise it to instil fear; we know that militarising the territory is to make it bait, and they still do it. What sort of peace do they want? Are they interested in the communities? What has happened to the victims? Is there reparation? (Cáceres, D., Macero, C., and Ortega, S., Motilonas Rap interview. Interview by Rafael Quishpe and Juan Francisco Soto, Reference Cáceres, Macero and Ortega2021)
Even in this scenario, Motilonas maintains their commitment to peace and their territory. They remind us, ‘My rap has a name: commitment to the people/root and resistance, the origin of which I speak of/my hip-hop, my tool, my shield, my armour/hip-hop when I breathe even if the struggle gets tough’ (Motilonas Rap 2021).
Conclusion
The cases we have engaged with, particularly those of Martín Batalla and Reincidentes Bta, suggest that some rappers in Colombia understand that the criminal justice system polices their art, and that their conviction as rappers stems from this policing. However, this does not occur with the case of Ángel Morera, who managed to evade police custody twice through his engagement with rap. Regardless, these cases show that the intentions and perspectives of these rappers on transitional justice contrast with those evidenced by scholarship regarding the criminal justice system, and provide a counter-example to it. Indeed, these cases are evidence for the broader themes scholarship has identified in regard to music and transitional justice, and that each engages with the other in Colombia in a complex manner.
The personal lives, perspectives and narratives of the musicians in this study indicate that they intend to engage with transitional justice in three dimensions, sometimes aligning with the official discourse on transition, and sometimes providing counter-narratives that may hinder them. Firstly, these rappers intend their music as a means of healing, reincorporation and reconciliation. Ángel Morera's case illustrates that rap can be a way out of war that actively engages him in the activities of the mechanisms of transitional justice. Similarly, Motilonas Rap highlights the importance of forgiveness with accountability, an issue that has made their music appealing to the Truth Commission, although they are reluctant to engage with the state. Reincidentes Bta is committed to reconciliation in their own way by taking their music and production knowledge to the FARC-EP. On this issue, Martín Batalla advocates for reincorporation as a form of continued resistance to government decisions regarding the agreement's implementation.
Secondly, rap is envisioned by these artists as a tool for social work, community building and activism. All the groups we have analysed use rap to stimulate social change, regardless of how this relationship began and its effects. Whereas Motilonas became rappers out of the need to develop their communitarian work, Martín Batalla's activism was parallel to his engagement with rap. On the other hand, Reincidentes Bta became activists when they realised that what they understood as real rap demanded a commitment to the country's political context. Morera's case is an atypical one, insofar as he began rapping as a personal escape. Still, reincorporation allowed him to develop his music and commit himself to political action. In all these cases, we see how the artists’ identities are a product of the interplay between rap, conflict and peace. Rap defined them but their identities, amidst conflict and transition, defined their rap as well.
Thirdly, these cases illustrate that rap can be a vehicle for truth telling, memory and denouncing. Ángel Morera's rap is a testimony that acknowledges his individual responsibility but also depicts the tragedies of war and his dreams of peace. In contrast, Martín Batalla raps the collective memory of the FARC-EP by romanticising their struggle, an approach that may be problematic as it depicts a one-sided version of the conflict. Reincidentes Bta advocates for the memory of victims of the political and economic establishment in a narrative that demands truth while denouncing impunity. Meanwhile, Motilonas’ understanding of the conflict vindicates victims’ memory on all sides and actors, including their territory. All these rappers denounce non-compliance with the agreement and demand real peace.
Our evidence suggests that Colombian rappers use and make their own key concepts of transitional justice in their personal and musical narratives. Healing, memory, non-repetition, community building, denunciations of impunity and demands for truth and accountability, which are paramount to transitional justice, constitute recurring themes of our analysis. Of course, the engagement with these concepts is not the same for each rapper. In this sense, rap, as understood by these musicians, relates to transitional justice in a different manner than it tends to do with the criminal justice system. Whereas rap is subject to criminalisation and prosecution in some countries, in transitional contexts, it may align itself to the overall goals sought by the state. This allows for the possibility of instrumentalisation by the latter. However, in some cases, the use of these themes within rap creates a counter-narrative to official discourses on transitional justice. Sometimes, this can foster critical debates that may still be functional to the official goals of transitional justice mechanisms and institutions, while in others, this can be an obstacle to them. This hints at further venues for research. For instance, what happens when rap is instrumentalised by the state in regard to rappers and their identities, but also to the goals of transitional justice? What are the impacts of these narratives and counter-narratives? To what degree do they actually aid or hinder transitional justice? How would the state react to rap lyrics that explicitly acknowledge and describe, in detail, war crimes or crimes against humanity by the author? What sort of narratives present in rap are produced by other actors of the conflict? How do these relations interplay in and with other musical genres?
In any case, the use of these recurring themes is not evidence of assimilation but rather of the appropriation of transitional justice by these rappers. Indeed, that rap in some cases may aid in the enhancement of transitional justice, while in others provide a counter-narrative to it that may even hinder its goals, highlights that rap and rappers claim these on their own terms. Their essence is resistance. After all, rap will be rap.
Acknowledgements
This work was partially supported by a grant from MINCIENCIAS (CT 833-2020). The authors would like to thank the rappers who shared their testimonies for the article. Also, thanks to Nikold Restrepo, Carlos Díaz and Laura Soto for their work in the data systematisation stage.
